


Cowboy Jones: The Girl at the Edge of the Galaxy

by AdamantEve



Series: Cowboy Jones [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bounty Hunters, Alternate Universe - Space, Bounty Hunter Jughead Jones, Bounty Hunters, CampBughead, F/M, Inspired by Firefly, Mechanic Betty Cooper, Science Fiction, Space Cowboys - Freeform, inspired by cowboy bebop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-06-29 21:24:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15737613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantEve/pseuds/AdamantEve
Summary: Betty loves being in space, and she's especially thrilled to have her cowboy. Leaving Earth was the best decision she'd ever made in her life, but did she really leave all of it behind?  What happens when her past decides to follow her?





	1. The Princess

 

Betty loved being in the engine room. She loved the sounds of perfectly moving parts—the soothing hum of proton power and the satisfying churn of older-model warp drives.

The organized compartments of tools and equipment along one wall was her pride and joy—achieved from weeks of carefully planned shelving, hooks, and taxonomy. At the deep end of the room, accessed by a ladder, was the loft. It was a sturdy structure, built like it was meant to serve as sleeping quarters, with thick safety railings and affording privacy for a 4 foot wide and 7 foot long space. Precisely at the aft of the ship where a glass window was perched, the loft offered a view of space, often an overwhelming backdrop of black in a sea of stars. Sometimes it was just a stream of light when they were travelling in warp speed and wormholes, but occasionally, when they were lazily drifting between planets, Betty could sit back in her cushioned alcove, a book at the ready, and watch heavenly bodies and nebula drift lazily by.

It was the most beautiful display of light and color and she wouldn’t exchange this view for all the wealth her parents threatened to take away from her back on Earth.

She always thought it odd how they believed their money was important to her.

She tried not to let it be a point of bitterness, as she had enjoyed the benefits of her privilege. She had gone to good schools and grown up wanting for nothing. They encouraged her to aim high at everything: tests, extracurriculars, university, relationships… and she did it all. She made it so that they would be proud of her, so that her parents and siblings could look at her and say, “You better believe she’s a Cooper.”

Betty also recognized how utterly empty that life could be without real purpose, and that if she didn’t insist on keeping her conscience awake and, at times, furious, she could get swept in the frivolity of it all.

She tried, for the most part, to _act_ on her convictions, to do more than just attend the glamorous charities and fundraisers, to do more than stand shoulder to shoulder with the money men and women who wrote the checks.

Ignoring PR protocol, she did show up for part-time work at the shelters, she did sort through the crates of crap at the food banks, and she did, against her family’s wishes, stow away with volunteer groups to do field work in disaster areas and even a conflict-torn planet or two.

It wasn’t that hard, honestly. It wasn’t like her parents were the President and First Gentleman of the Earth. She wasn’t royalty of any kind or anyone of particular significance. She was just a privileged rich kid who liked to _do_ things a certain way. She didn’t even think her parents were rich enough to hang with the ultra-rich Lodges and Mantles that she came to be friends with at school. Even if she _was_ best friends with hotel heiress Veronica Lodge or rock climbing buddies with pharma prince Reggie Mantle, Betty was ever aware of the fact that her family’s wealth was considered “new money”, made from her father’s successful foray into warp engines and expanding to spacecraft and rocket technology.

If there was ever one thing she found impressive about her pedigree, it would be that her father carved his own way. Rockets and engines were what gave the Coopers the wealth they had always aspired to have and it was probably the only reason Betty had been allowed to pursue a degree and career in rocket science.

So she did ask herself often—where did it go so wrong? Was it when she began to realize that her parents didn’t actually love each other? Was it when her elder sister came home pregnant and defiant, refusing to tell anyone who the father of her child was? Was it when she found her older brother, Chic, half-dead and OD’ed on cocaine in his apartment living room in Malaysia? Or maybe it was all of it, coupled with the wreckage of her relationship with the boy in the next mansion over, Archie Andrews and her best friend, Veronica Lodge?

Perhaps it was her mother (everyone blames their mothers) who told her, “Sit up straight and smile, honey. Nobody likes a drama queen.”

What made her snap and say, “Enough of this. Enough. I am drowning, holding up the weight of this faltering ship. I am exhausted and I need to think about what _I_ want, for a change.”

Betty had not been expecting someone as rugged and rough as FP Jones, clad in leather and jeans, self-proclaimed galactic traveller, to come knocking on her mothers penthouse door, looking for Alice Cooper and claiming to be an old friend from high school, let alone realize that he might be the answer to her problems.  

Her mother’s visceral reaction to FP showing up had piqued Betty’s interest and _of course_ she eavesdropped. Apart from FP and Alice’s romantic history, which Betty only really got hints of based on their somewhat contentious conversation, FP stated his reasons for showing up, which was basically to ask Alice if her husband had any spare engines lying around because the one he had on his cranky old ship was on the verge of mechanical collapse.

Alice had sent him away with a barrage of inappropriate language that Betty had never heard her use, and FP left in thunderous haste.

Betty wasn’t naive, in spite of her relatively sheltered upbringing. FP wasn’t fooling anyone with his lame story of needing an engine. She knew that FP had been more interested in her mother’s parts than he was of a ship’s, and it wasn’t that he was looking to rekindle a romance long term. It sounded like it was just the sort of nice-to-have while he was on Earth, and Betty wasn’t going to judge him for it.  

His reasons for being there didn’t matter. What mattered was the _idea_ that began to germinate from his visit.  

FP had implanted a fevered idea in her brain and she felt an urgency to follow it.

She had gone after FP and asked him what kind of ship and engine he had.

He was, perhaps, too surprised by her appearance and her question to hold that information back. _“It’s a S-Tail Serpent, with a--”_

 _“6-Gestalt Warp Core engine,”_ Betty had finished for him. _“Built to last, built for speed, but drains power cells and fuel like the Falcon SpaceXes of yore. If yours is breaking down, your mechanic is doing a piss-poor job of maintaining it.”_

He was speechless, but not for long. It took a lot to shock FP Jones, she’d eventually learn. _“I don’t have a mechanic.”_

That hadn’t deterred her in the least. _“You need one.”_

Her gall, if anything, was probably the only reason he hadn’t just abruptly walked away. _“What do you know about it?”_

Right then she knew she had a hook.   _“My father taught me how to build engines on a 6-Gestalt Warp Core. It is the first engine I ever took apart and put back together with my bare hands. That engine was designed by spacecraft engineers who pioneered deep-space travel, where crew members wouldn’t have the resources for parts should an engine break down in the yet uninhabited 4th quadrant of the galaxy--it’s not supposed to deteriorate, if properly maintained. You need a mechanic.”_

FP had shrugged. _“I probably do, but I can’t employ one. In my business, money doesn’t come in regular. It comes and it goes, which is why my crew is made up of my kids--they can forgive their old man if they don’t get paid for a couple of weeks.”_

 _“I can deal with that,”_ she had said in a fevered tone. She was close to success. She could feel it. _“I can be your mechanic.”_

A snort had escaped his lips. _“Even with the money coming in, your pay would still be shitty, the crew cranky, and you’ll need to know how to use a gun.”_ He had paused. _“Knowledge of explosives a plus.”_

_“I’m one-dissertation short of a phd in rocket science. I know how to blow things up and I’m pretty sure I can learn to handle a gun.”_

_“You’re Alice’s kid.”_

She nodded, her instincts telling her that this was going to be a deciding moment, and recalling the way FP had spat her father’s name when FP and Alice were arguing, she went all in. _“I am, but I’m not her favorite. That’d be Chic. I’m my father’s favorite. Hal Cooper--do you know him? He’d be mightily pissed if I left with you on your ship.”_

She could practically hear FP’s gears turning at the time, and after a moment’s pause, FP hired her on the spot.

Of course, it didn’t take long after she took off with the Joneses that her mother wormed her way into FP’s psyche. It didn’t surprise Betty at all that Alice had FP answering to her when it came to her daughter. Thankfully, it was easier for Betty to steer clear out of sheer physical distance.  If a galaxy between her and her mother wasn’t far enough, she’d have to launch herself into outer orbit without a suit on.

And while Betty had had moments on the ship the first couple of weeks when she questioned the wisdom of her actions, she carried on, empowered by the fact that for once in her life, she gave zero fucks about what her mother thought about what she had done.

The ship wasn’t a luxury cruise, by any means, and she hadn’t known starvation until she experienced it briefly on the Whyte Wyrm, but she relished the constantly changing landscape of space, the possibilities of seeing and traversing alien lands, the heart-pounding adrenaline of helping bag that bounty, and the intellectual and manual challenges of making an old ship with an old engine fly and perform like new. She had a goal in mind, too. A project. One, she found, she could only aspire to accomplish in the far reaches of the galaxy.

She now fully believed that this was the best decision she’d ever made, in her life.

Perhaps it also helped that the very attractive and brooding captain’s son was around to tip the cons over with the pros.

She remembered the first day she arrived on the ship and they saw each other for the first time. Jughead had taken one look at her and told his dad, in his signature sarcastic tone, “Well, at least you did _something_ right for once in your life.”

FP hadn’t quite laughed, but a smirk had threatened to surface from his often downturned lips, so she knew right then that father and son either had a complicated relationship or they shared a rather acerbic sense of humor. She came to realize that it was both.

She _also_ took it to mean that Jughead Jones at least liked that she was flying with them, even if three months thereafter that first day, he never expressed such a sentiment again, at least not with his words.

But now, three weeks since Jughead took off her panties and made her scream his name, he had nothing but words for just how glad he was to have her--in his cabin, in ship bay, in the shower, in the engine room, and most recently, in the Galley.

It’s been an invigorating three weeks.

She wasn’t going to lie--she felt like she was living her best life.

There was a sound from beneath of someone walking through the engine room below, and judging by the tread, it was Jughead. Sure enough, he emerged through the loft hatch, his signature beanie on his head.  

If FP looked anything like Jughead does now, she couldn’t blame her mother.

Jughead didn’t usually come to the loft. She had a feeling he had actively avoided it, which was a shame.  He wasn’t disinvited, but she didn’t want to seem needy. God knows, they hadn’t exactly talked about what _this_ was, and she wasn’t keen on rocking the ship just yet.

There was no need to hurry in the deep reaches of space.

“I don’t mean to intrude--”

“Intrude, by all means.” She tilted her chin, motioning for him to come up. There was space enough for them both.

The corner of his lip lifted slightly. “Dad sent me to get you.”

“Oh? What for?”

Jughead paused to think about it before he began to climbed the ladder, hoisting himself up the loft. “Know what? Don’t know, don’t care.”

She stifled a grin, watching him settle himself across her on the cushioned alcove. Once he was comfortable, he reached for her foot, took off her styled geta slippers, and began to rub her foot with the exquisite pressure of his fingers.

She purred, her body going liquid and her eyes fluttering closed.

_Best. Life. Ever._

“Got plans tonight, Cooper?” he asked, his tone casual.

She slowly cracked her eyes open. “Other than binge watching my favorite teen drama on my comm?”

He snorted. _“Other_ than that.” He was using his knuckles now and she was sighing happily at how good it felt. She was one knead away from making a very sensual sound.

“Oh, I’ve got tea with the Dalai Lama, an elegant little soiree with Sir Ulrich von Liechtenstein from Gelderland, and a date with my blow dryer--”

Her playful posturing was interrupted by her own delighted shriek as he pulled her by the ankles towards him, wrapping her around him in a straddle.

She giggled as he looked up at her with his intensely blue eyes.

The same hands that were massaging her foot was now running over her thighs, clad as they were in her mechanic overalls.

”Think you can… slot me into your busy schedule?”

She arched an eyebrow at his cheesy double entendre, but he seemed well aware of his offense and grinned. She shimmied her hips and settled herself more firmly on him, leaning close so that she can speak softly into his ear.

“I ought to punish you for that.”

“Please,” he whispered, sucking soft kisses against the underside of her jaw. “Do.”

She sighed and closed her eyes, rolling her hips and eliciting a soft groan from him. “I’m going to make you beg me to stop, Jones.”

His fingers traced a path up her arms and she could feel his hips thrusting back. He cupped her jaw and his lips brushed lightly against hers. “I can’t wait.”

She was smiling as she kissed him, parting his lips with her tongue.

They’d never done it in the loft before.  

Her breathing grew deeper and his hips began to push harder, and when the distinct ache between her legs turned into a dampness in her panties, she scrabbled for the buttons of his shirt.

His lips had already travelled to the valley of her breasts and his hand was squeezing her ass with a deliciously painful intensity.

An involuntary whimper escaped her when his tongue dipped beneath the collar of her shirt and the lace of her bra, skimming the edge of her nipple.

“Oh, Jug—“

The loud thrum of the engine room door below cut through their lust filled haze like a cleaver.

“Betty? Are you here?” came FP’s voice.

It shattered Betty’s senses, and for a moment, she had to will her body to cool down. She was half-paranoid that the smell of sex was already wafting through the air.

Jughead’s disappointed sigh feathered her chest as she scrambled off his lap.

She crawled towards the hatch and stuck her head through it.

“I’m up here, FP!” She waved at him, upside down.

FP stayed at the threshold of the door. “Been looking for you. Your mother’s on bridge comm.”

Anxiety roiled in her stomach. She hadn’t expected that at all. “Mom’s on _bridge comm?”_

“Said she’d been hailing you on your personal but you never respond.”

She sighed. “Right.”

FP smirked. “Just get it over with, kid.”

“I’d rather asphyxiate in space.”

“Please don’t. Alice will kill me.”

“Fine,” she grumbled. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Atta girl. Say, you seen Jughead? I sent him to find you.”

She pursed her lips and shook her head. “Nope.”

“That boy,” FP grumbled. He left, slamming the door behind him with a resounding clang.

When Betty turned back to Jughead, he had the back of his head leaning against the wall, an elbow perched on his upraised knee. He was still breathing heavily, but his posture was mostly relaxed. There was a pensive look in his gaze and his thumb was fidgeting between his teeth.

“Gotta take your mom’s call?”

She nodded, an apologetic expression on her face. “Yeah. I’ve been avoiding her calls for days.”

“She gonna tell you to get your gorgeous butt back home?”

She stifled her grin, biting her lip. She didn’t want to seem too pleased about being called gorgeous by him. He seemed so sullen to most people, but with her he was such a charmer. She tried not to think about how he may be like this to all his lovers, because really, she just had to enjoy the moment. “Probably. Will you be sad if I leave?”

He cocked a small smile. “It’d be a damn shame.”

She didn’t want to seem too pleased by that, either.

He began to unfold from his seat. “I got stuff to finish right now, anyway—filing to complete. Can’t wait to get paid for that last bounty.”

He was talking about the bounty he bagged two days prior. It had been a good haul the last couple of weeks. Since their capture of Jason Blossom, plenty other opportunities presented themselves. The fourth quadrant, it seemed, was home to many fugitives on the Most Wanted list.

She watched him go, meaning to make herself a little more presentable for Alice.

As he climbed down the hatch, he said, “We’ll be docking at the Iliad star system in a couple of hours, which’ll put us a few leagues away from the wormhole to the Helskin protectorate. There’s a Goblin Fair in Helskin planet and I’m taking JB to it. Want to join us?”

Her eyes lit up. The Goblin Fair was a large market at the furthermost edge of the third quadrant and it hosted a wide variety of wares, food, and entertainment from hundreds of cultures and species spanning the Milky Way. It was a spectacle and Betty would be thrilled to join them.

“Shiny! I’d love to come.”

He smirked. “Great. Looking forward to it already, Cooper.”

He left, and Betty, however anxious she was about her mother, was excited for the fair.

Though JB would be there, it almost felt like a date.

She wondered, then, what it would be like if Jughead took her on one. Would it be dinner and dancing? Or would he get her adrenaline pumping with something like craft races or a carnival? Would he surprise her with a museum? One had to wonder...

She tried not to wish for it to happen, tried not to be invested in the fantasy. What they had now was nice. What they were now was great. At least for the time being.

 

********************

 

Alice gave Betty a pointed glare as she settled in front of the comm.

“What took you?” Alice asked in a clipped tone.

“It takes a while to go from stem to stern on this ship,” Betty replied, calmly. She didn’t need to explain the nautical terms. Her mother was fairly knowledgeable when it came to spaceships. It was their family’s bread and butter.

“So how’s your little soul search going? Miserably, I hope?”

Betty took a deep, cleansing breath. “It’s not a soul search and I’ve found my experiences here quite enjoyable. So you can chuck your ill will, mom. I’m staying right here.”

The only sign that her mother was livid was the flint in her gaze. “It's been four months, Elizabeth. When do you plan on coming home?”

Perhaps the thing that Betty found most infuriating was that in spite of her 4 month absence, her mother hadn’t bothered to consider that this was more than a silly jaunt into space. This wasn’t Dark Tourism. This was a life choice. This was something Betty needed to do, and if she needed months, _years_ for this, it’s what she was going to do.

“I’ll let you know,” was all Betty said.

Her life on the ship had been nothing but self discovery, which was what she desperately needed after the events at home. She liked, especially, being among people who let her be whom she wanted to be—a spaceship mechanic who loved to tinker with the engine and her little contraptions, while wearing the most basic, comfortable clothing, and was occasionally allowed to wield a gun or handle explosives.

And she got paid for all of it, too. It wasn’t anything near the pay she received building rockets for her father’s company, that was for sure, but living out here in the far reaches of space, where she didn’t need to wear designer shoes or keep up with the latest fashion trends, where her appearance didn’t matter and her friends didn’t have a raging need to be seen with the right people—it was liberating. Also, it was definitely cheaper. Around here, the only thing she needed money for was food, basic essentials, and the occasional splurge. It was nice, not to be chained to a material lifestyle.

Alice’s jaw hardened. “Your father is heartbroken. He is launching that ship you helped design in two weeks. He’d been hoping you could be there for the ceremonies. It’s a big day for our company, Elizabeth. This is the first ever engine that turns inorganic material into fuel. It’s _your_ formula. _Your_ engineering. Your name is on the patent as the primary scientist. How can you—“

Betty gave her mother’s words a dismissive wave. “Oh, yeah. The 8-cylinder Hawk with the Forever engine. I _am_ very proud of it, but it was always meant for something better than commercial gain. You know this. I created that engine to decrease our reliance on fossil fuels, particularly for people with less means—the ones who have felt burdened by the cost of oil and chemical refineries. The poor farmer in the fields of South America or the Peace Keepers flung into the far reaches of space—they can take the refuse and garbage of the universe, the discarded pieces of the haves. Our greed would finally—actually help the have nots. The more we consume, the more they can flourish. _That’s_ what the engine was for. Dad took it and turned it into a goddamn—“

“Oh, please. Get off your high horse, Elizabeth. Your little Fuck the Rich manifesto is nice and all, but you couldn’t have created that engine without the financing provided by your father’s company.”

Betty refrained from mentioning that her latest project was about proving her wrong. Instead, she went on a different tangent.

“My being at the ship christening would’ve made for some _great_ PR, I bet.”

She hoped her sarcasm wasn’t lost on her mother.

Betty could see it—her, Archie, _and_ Veronica standing on the ceremonial stage with her father. What a field day the gossip columns would have.

“Is that what you’re worried about? What the media will say? For one, it’s nothing different from what they’ve been saying the past few weeks and second, I thought you were made of firmer stuff. Nevertheless, I can have Archie and Veronica removed. We may as well avoid airing your dirty laundry.”

Betty’s jaw dropped. _“My_ dirty laundry? You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“You weren’t the only one embarrassed by that whole affair, but you don’t see me running across the galaxy—“

“Stop. Enough. If that’s all you have to say then this conversation is over.”

“Elizabeth,” Alice said before Betty could push the END button on the screen. “Why don’t you just talk to Archie? He’s been telling me how sorry he is about what happened and that you haven’t answered his hails.”

“You’re damn right I haven’t.”

“Honey… maybe we can still make this right.”

Betty’s fist clenched. Hard. She was likely to break the skin of her palms, but she tried to breath through her anger, willing herself to believe that it wasn’t worth it.

“You tell Archie Andrews to shove it up his ass and that he should stop talking to my mother so she could make his pitch for him. The nerve of him, really. And if he really wanted to apologize, he’d find another way. There are a million forms of communication. Maybe he could ask Veronica to help him on that.”

With that, Betty pressed the END button, hoping her mother wouldn’t call back.

She left the bridge just so she wouldn’t have to accept the hail if Alice insisted on continuing their aggravating conversation.

 

******************

 

“You know what you need? Draknak.”

Betty’s eyebrow arched, wondering if the smirk on Jughead’s face meant mischief. “What the heck is Draknak?”

“Ganymedean ice cream. You think Earth does that best? They did us one better. And it’s not made of gross alien dairy. It’s plant-based. Trust me, it’s delicious.”

She eyed him suspiciously. She wasn’t sure about 3rd Quadrant alien desserts yet. She was yet to summon the courage as they walked through Helskin’s Goblin Fair.

The Goblin Fair was loud and amazing, with live music wafting in the air and the constant haggling in thousands of languages creating a charged ambience. It was like the sights, sounds, and smells of possibilities coalescing into a massive, moving, and colorful living thing, breathing and alien.

The food was overwhelming, and Jellybean and Jughead had sampled as much of it as their courage could handle. Jellybean had drawn the line at live insects. Jughead didn’t care. He took a hideous bug from the sampling plate, tore off its legs and pincers and bit into its head.

Betty was horrified, but he only shrugged and said, “It’s sweet like candy—if a little mushy.”

As gross as it was, Betty had to admit that she was impressed by his fearlessness in pushing his palate. Or perhaps it was just titillating that his appetite for food translated to his appetite in bed.

As she stared up at him and his suggestion of ice cream, it occurred to her that she’d been sullen in spite of all the excitement.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Am I that obvious?”

He shrugged as he reached for yet another sampling plate. This time it looked like a small ball of flour. He smelled it briefly before popping it into his mouth.

“Don’t apologize,” he said, his mouth full. “You’re allowed to be upset about your mother.” He chewed more intensely and she could hear something crunching. “This stuff’s interesting. It starts soft but it gets crunchier. It tastes like fried pickles.”

She watched his expression with avid fascination, and she realized in the next second that she wasn’t necessarily as interested in his opinion on the food as she was about the off hand way he had told her it was okay to express feelings that were less than stellar. She didn’t have to smile all the time.

A bark cut through the din of the crowd and Hotdog hopped excitedly after Jellybean who was looking at an old gaming console. The stall she was in consisted of similar antique pieces from various cultures and Jellybean started picking things up to examine them. The merchant, who was Helskinian, with her long flowing green feelers and golden skin, approached Jellybean and started talking to her.

Betty watched her with interest before turning to a nearby stall to look at some beautifully embroidered scarves. She held a red one up. The color was rich and it had sprays of gold filigree-like patterns. It was the sort of piece she would’ve worn at her father’s aerospace research facilities, where she used to work, along with her excessively expensive power suits and high heeled pumps.

“It’s pretty,” Jughead said as yet again, he popped something in his mouth. He had a handful of something, like nuts. No food sample was safe.

She draped the scarf around her neck with a flourish. “This would look perfect against the backdrop of greasy gears and the constant thrum of a warp core.”

He chuckled and shrugged. “Red looks great on you.”

She wanted to say that there was no reason for her to own something like it, since she had no place to wear it, but she didn’t want him to think she was trying to fish for a date. She smiled and took it off, putting it back in the rack. “Overpriced. Maybe something more practical.”

He seemed amused. “They’re probably all out of mechanic couture.”

She cast him some side-eye. “You’re teasing.”

“All I’m saying is, you gotta live a little.  And nothing’s too expensive at the Goblin Fair if you know how to haggle.”

“I’ll find something else to spend my hard-earned money on.”

At that point Jellybean came laden with her newly bought antique gaming console. “It was a steal! Jug, I’m going over to the Megadome, which I know you hate.”

“I only hate it because you take forever in it.”

“Right, so why don’t you go crazy at the Literary Emporium and I’ll meet you there when I’m done.”

“One hour, JB. That’s the limit. Longer than that and I’ll bail on you. You’ll need to pay for a transport to get back to the Wyrm.”

Jellybean was already leaving, Hotdog bounding happily after her. “Fine!”

Betty frowned, watching Jellybean disappear into the slow moving crowd. “Will she be alright all by herself?”

Jughead snorted. “I understand why you forget she’s a functioning adult sometimes, but she _is_ turning 20 soon. She is also cunning as hell and she has Hotdog with her.”

“Hotdog is a giant marshmallow with a tongue.”

“Oh, he can get pretty protective of Jellybean. He’s also 100 pounds. He can at least knock someone over long enough for JB to get away. She’ll be fine.”

It was interesting how Jughead seemed to have switches in his psyche, how he can turn things on and off in very precise ways in every given moment.

When he was on mission mode, he was on. He constantly talked about safety before, during, and after missions. He swept unfamiliar rooms for bugs. He took pictures of things and places he considered suspiciously odd just so he could keep a record of it one way or another. He was constantly vigilant.

And yet he was like _this_ too. A little more carefree. Definitely smug. Relaxed, like he didn’t have a gun tucked into the waist of his pants in a holster, eating samples off a street fair and chewing the scene.

His eyes scanned the direction Jellybean took briefly and Betty saw him flip yet another switch. The distance between them closed and he was looking down at her upturned face.

“Let JB go off on her own,” he whispered, tilting her chin up higher so he could drop a kiss on her lips.

She closed her eyes to enjoy the feel of him amidst the cacophony of trade. It wasn’t supposed to be romantic but it felt like it.

When he pulled away, he slipped his hand into hers. “So, do you want to try the Draknak? And you can tell me over ice cream why your mother makes you fly to the ends of the galaxy to get away from her.”

She wanted to laugh, both endeared by his offer to listen, with ice cream, and anxious, too, because just how much was she willing to unpack for him? Should she, even? Was this appropriate?

This was messy, personal stuff. Why would a lover be interested in such unsexy things?

His gaze flickered, the smugness replaced with something else. A hardness that she had only ever seen on his face the first day she saw him. “Sorry, you don’t have to tell me anything. It’s just conversation.”

An inexplicable jolt of panic clenched in her chest. Whatever it was that lay behind his words, she didn’t like it. It felt like she had to save it. “No! I mean, yes, it’s just—there’s a lot, Jones. I’d like to tell you, but I don’t even know where to begin.”

He seemed—

_Relieved?_

She wasn’t sure what, but she felt better about it, too.

“Let’s get you that ice cream.”

 

********************

 

Why would a pony-tailed princess like her fly with a bunch of ragtag cowboys like them? What would make her run away from her life of uptown galas and ivy-league trust funders to slum it in a cranky old ship with a cranky ass crew, tinkering with near-ancient warp engines full-time while slinging a gun part time?

What was it about her, an almost-phd’ed rocket scientist, at the cutting edge of aerospace technology, that made her give it all up to be a _mechanic?_

She could’ve been anything she wanted to be, gone to exotic places living some kind of _Yaya Sisterhood, Under the Tuscan Sun_ dream, and yet she chose _this_ dump. And in this grease-stained life, she was with _him._

Or something like it.

He’d wondered, of course, whether sheer proximity and default had gotten him the privilege of _this,_ of taking off her clothes, of kissing her plump lips, of making her scream beneath him. It seemed only logical, that had she been less confined in a ship, been out and about with more people-- _better_ people, that she might have looked somewhere else, and someone else more… _upscale_ could’ve found her.

And yet he really shouldn’t be looking a gift horse in the mouth.  She was there. She let him do all sorts of things to her, and he let her do all sorts of things to him. They were in each other’s spaces as often as privacy allowed. They were cupping and filling, breathing one another inside, pushing and pulling. The secrecy excited them. It excited him, but it wasn’t just the orgasms and the beauty of her dips, valleys, and curves that had him coming back. It was her eyes.

Those green windows into her personality, unfailingly expressive and a lot of the time, completely unafraid. Those eyes made him feel like they were the only two people in the galaxy, infinitely intimate.

That’s what he came back for. When their eyes were locked, he could forget the white noise that surrounded them, and he could indulge himself in _her._

Of course, whenever that spell broke, he was sucked back into the reality that this dalliance probably had an expiration date. Fortunately or unfortunately, they mutually decided not to talk about it.  

It didn’t mean he wasn’t fascinated by her. He had so many questions, even before their physical relationship. He wanted to know _why._

She was looking at her Draknak, eyeing the creamy green scoops in her cup. The flavor she had chosen, Earth Banana, was not apparent in the coloring. Banana, she had said, was supposed to be yellow.

“Why is every flavor green? How would the shop owners even know that they’re actually serving the right flavor?” she asked.

“There’s this thing called labels, you see--”

She nudged his shoulder with hers. “That’s inefficient. At least color code the containers. Theirs are all white.”

He chuckled. “Stop thinking like an Earthling. You’re in the 3rd and 4th quadrants now. Ganymeadeans don’t see things like we do. We see white, but their eyes see a thousand more shades. For all we know, that green you’re looking at is a color you can never conceive in your imagination.”

She was staring at her ice cream now with a different kind of intensity. Her gears were turning. “Ocular refraction… the change in direction of light ray propagation crossing transparent media… photoreceptors… ” She was transported, her eyes seeing equations in thin air. She dug into her pockets, pulled out a pen and notebook, and began to scribble.

_She is so fucking out of my league…_

“What are you writing down?”

She sighed and grinned. “42.”

“The answer to life, the universe, and everything?”

Her eyes lit with delight. “You’ve read Douglas Adams?”

He laughed. “Why do you sound so surprised? I read, you know.”

Her cheeks bloomed. “I know that! But Adams isn’t In Cold Blood or Helter Skelter. Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy is—“ She struggled with the label. “Geeky.”

He was tempted to call her out for noticing the selections in his personal library, but he couldn’t help but tell her what he really felt. “I like geeky.”

The blush of her cheeks deepened. “Well in that case—“ She opened her notebook to show him a vast layout of equations and diagrams. “I built an engine for my father’s company, which converts inorganic materials into fuel, basically it can convert trash into energy.”

The equations meant nothing to him but the concept was blowing his mind. She was breathtaking. “That’s brilliant, Cooper.”

“Thanks. I’m pretty proud of it, too. The possibilities an engine like this can generate are endless—poor folks generating energy in their impoverished towns to power a trade, ultra-deep space travel, environmental recovery… that’s what I wanted for this engine, but the problem is that I built the engine on dad's dime, so his company can do what he wants with it, which to him means monetizing it and making it inaccessible to a large population of the galaxy therefore making it yet another way for the rich to get ri…”

Jughead waited for her to go on. She was riveting, but she pursed her lips and flashed an embarrassed smile.

He could practically see the apology forming on her lips and he leaned over to push some hair off her forehead, where some of it had tumbled over while caught in her rant. She had nothing to apologize for.

She seemed surprised by his touch.

“It sounds like,” he said, “you already got to 42.”

She was shy, all of a sudden. “I-I haven’t. Not until I can make the same engine on an incredibly low budget.”

Only Betty Cooper would go the extra mile to find the answers she was looking for--to leave everything behind so that she can search for her engine where no reasonably, able-minded aeronautic engineer would go--in the empty reaches of the outer galaxy.

When he thought about it, the path she was taking was almost biblical. She shed all her wealth and privilege to find her salvation. When he thought about it that way, he could begin to understand how she willingly left it all behind. He had kind of done an upside down version of it. He had been in the Space Force, and he knew that every time the red tape fell away, he was theoretically making a big difference--a change bigger than himself, but it wasn’t the politics and paralysis that drove him away.  He could’ve gotten over that by appreciating the good pay, great benefits, and a steady (if stale) career, but his father came knocking in his barracks and told him if wanted to give FP another chance, there was a spot for him in the junkheap he called The Whyte Wyrm.

And Jughead realized then that the one person he couldn’t save was finally asking for his help, and great causes aside, it seemed odd to give himself to the galaxy when he couldn’t give himself to his own family.

So Jughead left the force and went with his dad. “To keep him out of trouble,” was the excuse he gave. That they managed to drag Jellybean and Hotdog along for the ride was a bonus.

Now Betty was on the ship bearing extraordinary dreams and being on it with her was all he could do to keep up.

As she went outward, he went in.  

It was admirable and he didn’t have much, but he had a pretty good handle on the far reaches of space. “You tell me what you need, Cooper--parts, tools… black market materials, I’ll get it for you. You’re going to build that engine.”

She laughed. “Are you serious?”

He took her spoon and dug into her ice cream. “As a Pythorian Myfoku fever.”

 

**************

 

FP’s spacecraft, the Chopper, wasn’t the sleekest or most compact transport in the galaxy, but what it lacked in subtlety, in made up for in space and raw power.  

It was often used to transport equipment, ship rations, and on certain occasions, a group of people.

At the moment, Jughead was driving it to get his sister, the mechanic, a dog, and the merchandise they all bought from the Goblin Fair back to the ship, and as normal as that was, with Jellybean and Hot Dog napping in the sectioned off storage area, Jughead was trying his best not to crash them because Betty was sucking his dick and she was really, really good at it.

“Holy mother of--” He groaned, his eyes closing as her lips slid down the length of his shaft.

He took a fist full of her hair as her head bobbed on his lap and his grip on the steering wheel slackened, which caused the ship to veer.

 _“Fuck,”_ he hissed, jerking the ship back into course.

She giggled and the ripples of it traveled through his body. Jughead gave a sigh of half exasperation, half longing.

“Baby, how do you expect me to-- _oh, my God.”_

Her tongue licked the underside of his cock before her mouth took him back in. He canted his hips, trying to get more of himself into her. The ship veered again and he had to breathe to course correct.

She dragged her lips along his cock and let it go with a pop. She looked up at him from between his legs, her hand moving up and down his length, and said, “You’re not going to crash us, are you, cowboy?”

His heavy breathing was essential to stave the imminent white out that his pleasure was trying to push him towards. He was very hard and very horny, but he was also afraid he couldn’t summon his space force training to get them safely across the short length of space to the wormhole. The space force hadn’t prepared them for the possibility of getting a blowjob while flying.

“I just need--I just need to get us to the wormhole and--” he gulped. “Auto pilot.”

“Then get us to the wormhole,” she breathed, running her tongue along his cock, following that thick vein from his base to the underside of his penis.  

He took a deep breath as she took him in her mouth again, his focus singular and sure. The wormhole was visible. A pinprick of blue light. Once inside, he had thirty minutes to do whatever the hell he wanted to do to her.

He focused on that light, trying not to let the bobbing of her head, the feel of her lips, the sliding of her tongue, and the movement of her hand shatter his focus too much.  He just needed the barest thread of concentration.

The wormhole was vast and the airspace wasn’t crowded at all. He could fly into the thing with his eyes closed.

But _wow,_ that tongue…

The wormhole was coming up, and Jughead surged forward with all the grace of a rookie pilot. It wasn’t his best driving, but they were through, and as soon as he punched auto pilot, he pulled Betty up onto his lap and grabbed her by the back of the head.

Their lips crashed and he swept his tongue inside her mouth.

She moaned into his mouth and pulled her lips away. “I’m not finished, Juggie.”

“I’ll finish _you,”_ he promised, darkly, tasting the skin of her throat while he fumbled to undo the buttons of her pants.

When the waist of her pants loosened, he pushed them off and she helped. As soon as her pants dropped to the floor, she was straddling him on his seat, rolling her hips along his cock. She still had her panties on, and it was driving him crazy being unable to push himself inside her.

He took the edges of her shirt and pushed it up above her breasts, which prompted her to put her arms up so he could pull the shirt completely off.

He took both of her breasts in his hands and squeezed them, looking up in her eyes. “God, these are beautiful.”

Grinning, she placed her hands over his and urged him to squeeze harder. “All yours, cowboy.”

Again, her eyes were pulling him in, and he melted at her gaze, groaning as he pushed the lacy fabric of her bra down and he took her nipple into his mouth. She gave a cry of pleasure, and Jughead could only pray the cockpit doors were heavy enough to muffle the sounds they were making.

His fingers fumbled for one of his utility pockets, grasping the condom he had inside it. “B-Baby--”

She took the packet, tearing the foil open.

She shifted back a bit, just so she could roll the condom onto his dick. When he was sheathed to the hilt, he took her by the hips and lifted her. With deft fingers, he pushed her panties aside and entered her.

Her moan of pleasure scattered his senses, sending his eyes fluttering closed. The warmth and wetness of her around his cock felt insanely good, and he was so wound up that he was in dire danger of coming before her.

He ran his fingers through the golden strands of her hair, devouring her mouth as he bucked into her. “You are incredible, you know that?” he whispered. “So fucking incredible.”

Her loud whine made him shush her with a trembling finger. “JB’s--”

Rocking her hips to meet his thrusts, his concerns disintegrated at the sensations of _her,_ of her breath against his lips, at her tongue swirling around his, the feel of her thighs embracing his body, and her breasts that were bouncing so delightfully at each meeting of their hips.

He smoothed the slope of her shoulders with his hands, admiring the shift of bone and muscle as she moved. He kissed the mounds of her breasts as his hands traveled down to her hips.

Digging his fingers into her soft flesh, he set a faster cadence, making her moan with approval.

When he looked up, her eyes were closed.

“Betty,” he breathed.

Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled at him, even as she rocked her hips to take him into her. Even as her breath stuttered and her mouth fell open at what he knew was an approaching climax.

“Oh, Jug,” she moaned. “That feels so fucking good.”

“Look at me,” he implored. “Look at me when you come.”

She bit her lip, nodding, and he lost himself in her gaze, basking in her need for him, letting her desire wash over him as he thrust up against her harder and her hips moved even quicker. He was hurtling to his own climax and he was afraid he would come first, so he pressed his thumb to her clit and began to make circles around it.

Her breath hitched and she gave a keen of pleasure.

When he felt her flutter around him and she cried that she was coming, he released. Wrapping one arm around her waist and continuing the cadence of his thumb and hips. He had her. He would be there for her, but he was taking from her, as well, and it was just how he wanted to come, her legs wrapped around him, his eyes captivated by hers, and their combined moans filling his ears. He worked both of them through their climax, taking every ounce of it that he can.

There was that moment of white light, where every fiber of his body was focused on reaching that exquisite high, cresting and then bursting throughout his body. And then he was coming down, his heavy breathing gathering the oxygen his brain needed to function.

Their foreheads were touching, and the hot breath from both their lips mingled. She peppered his lips with her kisses and he accepted them gratefully.

Gently, he smoothed the skin over her hips, where his fingers must’ve dug hard. “Oh, baby.”

She purred. He loved that sound she made. Like she was content.

He did that to her. He could make her happy, if only for a few a moments.

“I always wanted to do that,” she whispered, combing her fingers through his hair. “Ride you in a cockpit.”

He chuckled, kissing the underside of her jaw. “Was it everything you expected?”

She grinned and settled against him. “Everything and more.”

He smiled and let his hand run up and down her back.

There was no need to hurry. They had a lot of time yet before they got to the other end of the wormhole.

 

****************

 

When they came out the other end, Betty went to cargo hold and found Jellybean and Hotdog snoring deeply in the cot. Waking both of them up required a lot of shaking and in the end, yelling.

Jughead hadn’t had to worry about them being loud, after all.

Betty hadn’t known exactly what came over her when she decided to give him head while he flew the ship. It was perhaps the way he held the steering wheel, or the off-hand way he punched the dashboard buttons. He looked so relaxed and so sure that something primal had taken over and she wanted to take control of him.

But it was while she looked into his eyes, chasing her climax, that she realized why she wanted him so much. It was because he had _listened_ to her, over ice cream, and told her that what she sought was worth not just her time, but _his,_ as well.

She hadn’t been listened to in a long time.

She was grateful and she wanted to thank him in the best way she knew how.

Perhaps she wasn’t quite done thanking him, either.  There was certainly more opportunities to show him how much she appreciated him.

But first they had to get back to the Wyrm.

By the time Jellybean managed to rise from the cot, Jughead was docking the Chopper.

The shuttle settled with a loud bang but a very mild shake, and as she ship powered down, Jughead emerged from the cockpit and shimmied past Betty as if they hadn’t been getting each other off a few minutes ago.

Jughead gave Hotdog’s rump a gentle slap. “C’mon boy. Time to unload.”

Hotdog gave a whine but padded to his feet, trailing after Jughead who was pushing open the cargo doors and stepping out.

Jellybean shambled after them, practically tripping on the platform as she worked through her sleep haze.

Betty followed Jughead’s figure with her gaze, marveling at his graceful gait and the tightness of his body. He was securing the Chopper to the bay and she could see the effort he was putting into pushing the mechanical locks down.  

 _God,_ she thought as she fingered the collar of her shirt. _How the hell did I ever think I could resist?_

Smirking to herself, she took hold of one of the trolleys and undid the locks on its hovering mechanisms. A hiss of compressed air blew through the vents at the bottom and the trolley platform lifted gently.  

Betty pulled on the handles and the trolley rolled gently after her, safely descending the platform as she emerged from the craft onto ship bay.  

She could hardly wait to shuffle through the cargo and grab her purchases. The Goblin Fair had a lot of interesting items, but none so interesting as old engine parts and outdated cores that nobody except her wanted.  She was excited to get to work while FP prepared dinner.

“Need help with some of that stuff?” Jughead asked as Jellybean and Hotdog bound past him through the doors.  

Betty nodded and tapped one of the bigger boxes. “Just this one. I’ll have my hands full with the other two I’ve got.” Taking two smaller boxes with handles on them, she picked them up and headed for the doors.

Jughead followed behind her. “If all shopping trips finished like that, I think I may just chauffeur you around on a regular basis.”

She looked over her shoulder to cast him a mildly scolding look. “You are _not_ my chauffeur, Juggie. Never call yourself that.” The title carried too much meaning for her to be too comfortable joking about it. Growing up, she _had_ chauffeurs. With the lifestyle her family led, her parents couldn’t be expected to ferry her around, so they paid someone else to do it for them.  When she learned how to drive, she stubbornly refused to be driven around by someone else.

It was, quite possibly, her first ever act of rebellion. So she wasn’t about to let anyone even _joke_ about driving her around, least of all Jughead.

He smirked over the box he was carrying. “Oh yeah? What am I, then?”

Well.

That was a good question.

She could say he was her friend. That was nice and comfortable, right? But friends didn’t fuck each other in spacecraft cockpits. She could say they were friends with benefits, but she felt that was too flippant, and she didn’t want him to think that he was just a good lay. Lovers? It was fine to call him that in her mind, but out loud? Cheesy. Maybe heavy handed. She didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable about all this.  

She smiled and turned to face him, carefully walking backwards as she finally said, “You’re _my_ cowboy.”

The corner of his lip lifted. He seemed to like it and his smirk made her insides feel soft. She pushed the door open behind her with her butt, and as she stepped into the common room, she felt a little like giggling.

“Betty?”

She froze in shock. It felt like ice lancing through her veins.

She knew that voice.

She whirled around and faced the unwanted visitor.

The red hair, the handsome face, and those impossibly annoying puppy dog eyes felt like a wall coming up hard and fast, and she was going to crash right into it.

She couldn’t believe it.  He was here.

“Archie.”

 


	2. The Pilot

She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She couldn’t believe that Archie was standing in the Whyte Wyrm common room, light years away from Earth, with fucking flowers in his hands.

This was unreal.

She couldn’t find the words beyond saying his name.

“Betty,” Archie said again. “I am so glad—“

“How did you find me?” she interrupted, her jaw clenched. “How did you—“

Archie seemed surprised by her question. “Well, your mother told me.”

“Well, how the hell did she know? I never told her where my exact location was. I never gave her the ship ID!”

She noticed FP fidgeting and she turned to him, her shoulders rigid. “Did you tell my mother where we were? Did you give her the ship ID?”

FP opened his mouth, stammered, then finally said, “She told me she was going to send you a care package and that it was perishable!”

“Oh, FP!” she moaned. “She lies! You should know this!”

“How was I supposed to know she was going to give it to this bozo?”

Archie frowned and muttered _bozo_ under his breath, like he couldn’t believe he’d gotten called a disparaging name.

That was the thing with Archie. He was like a trusting labrador, generally eager and certain of its unconditional welcome, who may occasionally bark, and almost never bite. Except that he was rich, white, and a dude. He _always_ got his way, no matter how paltry his efforts were.

When Betty got to thinking about her entire relationship with him, even getting a girlfriend had been easy for him.

She and Archie had practically grown up together, so it was almost like he had gotten her as a girlfriend in a packaged delivery, all set up and ready to go.

If it had been any other guy, she might have thought him too simple-minded and a tad too used to getting his way. And when she _really_ got to thinking about how she had been with him, she felt taken advantage of, because whenever he had asked her to do something for him, she had done it.

It made her mad that she let him do that to her for years, but _that_ part--the _letting him_ do it? She felt that was all on her, and even now, feeling a deep, overwhelming irritation for him, she could admit that she played _some_ part in his entitlement.

So she supposed being called a bozo by the likes of FP, leather jacketed, dark jeans, stubbly-faced, definitely not of high-society stock, would be baffling to him, which frankly infuriated her even more.

FP sighed and looked at her apologetically. “I’m sorry, kid. When Alice starts on her whole… dominatrix vibe--”

 _“Whoa!”_ Jellybean cried, throwing her hands up. “Easy there, 50 Shades! Delicate ears over here!”

FP shot his daughter a withering look but did cast Betty a rueful one. “You know how your mother gets.”

Betty blew a breath. “I know. Jesus, FP...”

Hotdog gave a woof and Jellybean had to grab his collar to keep him from jumping Archie and probably slobbering his face. It would be just like Archie to win the affections of any dog within a 5-league radius

Archie’s eyes were shifting from face to face, taking everything in, then he seemed to remember the flowers he had. He held them out to her. “These are for you.”

He took a step towards her but she took a frantic step back. She bumped into someone, and when she looked over her shoulder, she realized she had forgotten Jughead was there.

Jughead had set aside the box he had been holding, so she had bumped right into the planes of his chest. He looked down at her upturned face, his face etched in concern.

When she felt his hands on her shoulder, she immediately felt more in control.

“Is this guy bothering you?” he asked.

Of course Jughead would be concerned. Of course he’d ask, because that was the way he did things. She wanted to say yes. She was going to say yes. _Please jettison this jerk into space because he has no business being here, ruining our little pocket of space._

“I don’t know what she told you, dude,” Archie said in a testy tone. “But I’m not just some rando off the black—“

Betty’s jaw dropped. _Off the black?_ “Oh, shut up with the space slang, Archie! You’ve hardly flown out of New York! Don’t start talking like a Jumper!”

Jumpers, also known as cargo guards, go from port to port through the wormholes of space. They called wormholes Gates and they did say things like “Off the Black.”

“As a matter of fact, I’ve been a _stow_ for two weeks now, Betty!” Archie cried. “Did you know that no commercial ship flies this far out in the galaxy? So I did have to hitch a ride with Jumpers!”

The image of Archie being a _stow_ , human cargo, was hilarious. Jumpers were even rougher than cowboys. At least most cowboys had some form of military history, so they were almost always trained and educated. Jumpers were _not_ as educated and oftentimes, they became Jumpers because the job didn’t have a lot of educational requirements. Their qualifications were: can shoot a gun; never complain. That was it.

It must’ve been a rough two weeks for Archie, especially since he had never had to work hard for anything his entire life.

As it was, Archie didn’t look like himself. His clothes looked borrowed. Ill fitting. He would’ve never willingly gone out in clothes that weren’t exclusively tailored for him, so he must’ve had no choice.

“What happened to your clothes?” she asked, genuinely curious.

His lips pursed and his face reddened. “My luggage mysteriously disappeared in transit and I-I accidentally stuffed the only ones I had on in a trash chute. They got incinerated…”

Betty bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Oh, my God. Let me guess, you thought it was a hamper, that some _maid_ would come knocking on your door the next day with all your clothes nicely pressed and folded.”

Jellybean had no problem laughing out loud. “Aw, you sweet, handsome ginger pup. Mommy always used to do your laundry for you?”

Archie frowned. “Hey, it’s not funny! I had to walk around without underwear for three days and these pants are _not_ soft!”

“Did you try the front desk for some chafing cream?” Betty asked, trying for some levity--for her own sanity. Archie treating a cargo ship like it was the Five Seasons was just classic.

“You are being _so mean_ right now,” he cried, pouting.

Betty shook her head, her mirth dissolving into a frustrated sigh. “Oh, Archie. What are you doing here? Did mom send you? Just go home. I’m not going back with you.”

Archie immediately transitioned back to the eager labrador. This was the part he probably practiced for. “I just needed to see you, B. I wanted to apologize. For everything.”

Betty felt supremely underwhelmed by this gesture. “Four months later.” She pursed her lips. “You had one job.”

“You were suddenly on a ship flying across the galaxy!”

“I wasn’t on a ship until two weeks after the--the _thing!_ You could’ve apologized then. By phone if you didn’t want to see me. Or by text, even. Jesus Christ, that would’ve been a dick move but I might’ve taken it at that point.”

“Well I’m here now! And it wasn’t easy, B!”

Betty clapped her hands, her deadpan face felt heavy, even to her. “You’re doing _great,_ sweetie.”

He gave it a moment’s thought. “Was that sarcasm?”

“Who the fuck are you, again?” Jughead interjected as he stepped forward. He was suddenly taking up space, just the slightest bit edged in between her and Archie. His shoulders were tense, like how he looked when he was about to serve papers to a bounty. This was Protective Jughead, and it occurred to Betty that her own body language had shown nothing but contempt for Archie, and Jughead was insanely sensitive to her cues.  

Now Archie’s hackles were clearly rising, too. He shot Jughead a glare before looking past him to catch Betty’s eyes.

Archie gestured for her. “Babe, just _please_ come over here and talk to me.”

Betty’s eyes widened with outrage.

He just called her _babe_ in front of Jughead. This was purely territorial now and Archie had no right whatsoever to do that. No right at all.

“Don’t call me babe,” she said in a sharp tone.

Archie rolled his eyes and began to approach, daring to walk past Jughead. “Oh, _come on._ Don’t be like that!”

When he reached out, she flinched away. The thought of Archie touching her right now was repulsive and clearly, her discomfort was enough for Jughead to act.

Archie was suddenly flat on the floor, Jughead’s knee on his spine and Archie’s arm and wrist twisted awkwardly behind him.

Archie, who was All-American in high school on the wrestling team, was absolutely incapacitated by Jughead Jones.

“Touch her, motherfucker, and you die,” Jughead growled. “You got that?”

Archie yowled as Jughead twisted harder. “Who the fuck is this guy, Bet— _ouch!”_ He slapped the floor twice, the way it was done in competition when wrestlers got submitted. Only this time, the opponent wasn’t letting up.

Jellybean made a sound. “This is _riveting._ I can’t breathe.”

“Son,” FP said, calmly. “At least go easy on his spine.”

“Not a fucking chance.”

“Soldier—“

Jughead threw him a withering look. “Dad, you are not my senior officer.”

FP put up his hands in surrender.

“Betty, c’mon,” Archie implored. “Just call him off me. You know I won’t hurt you!”

Betty should be telling Jughead to lay off, because did Archie really deserve to get his face shoved to the floor? Then again, Archie’s cluelessness was pretty infuriating.  Did he really just say that? That he wasn’t going to hurt her? Never physically, perhaps. “Too late for that, Arch. You already did.”

Jughead looked up at her, the intensity in his eyes making her look away. Had Archie ever been so fierce for her? Probably never.

The many Coulda Woulda Shouldas made her heart hurt. If she had just stepped out of the box sooner, been a little braver, all of this could’ve been avoided. She might have had more time to realize that she deserved someone much better than Archie Andrews.

Her eyes filled briefly but she blinked the tears away. It wasn’t all Archie’s fault. He fell into it like she did. They were both there for the convenience of it all. The propriety. They were store bought, stamped and certified. No wonder they fell apart, and she supposed Archie was weirdly still in it. She wondered who was speaking into his ear. Alice, probably.

Jughead’s intensity so immediately transformed into concern that her heart hurt even more. “Betts…”

“Let him go, Jug,” she said, softly. “He’s harmless.”

Jughead stepped off him and Archie slowly realigned his limbs.

“Goddammit, Betty,” Archie groaned, picking himself off the floor, along with the partly ruined bouquet. “Why do you always have to be so difficult?”

The stormy look returned in Jughead’s eyes. “Because she has a brain, asshole.”

Betty pursed her lips to stifle her smile.

 _Jughead_.

The irony, of course, was that when it came to her, Archie always had it so easy.

_Couldn’t finish your homework? No problem, Arch, I’ll do it for you. You forgot to get that cake I asked you to bring? Oh, don’t think about it. I’ve got brownies I can make. That cake was too sweet anyway. Need that paper to graduate and don’t have the time? Worry not, I happen to have a spare lying around for you…_

She was so committed to “the plan” that she lost sight if a lot of things, like her own happiness and self-worth.

She had been conditioned, perhaps since birth, to stick to this plan, which apparently required helping Archie catch up—all the time. She didn’t even see it as his flaw. She had seen it as _hers_ \--for expecting more from him sometimes, when she forgot that he can only do so much.

“Just say what you have to say, Arch,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Archie straightened his ill-fitting coat and squared his shoulders, casting Jughead a deadly glare before speaking to her. “I just wanted to clear the air, you know? Whatever Tina and I were up to, it’s over. We’re not going to do that again.”

She didn’t understand, and it must have shown on her face, because he continued.

“Tina. And I. We’re done. We won’t-- _do stuff,_ and—you know, you and I…”

Was she hearing what she thought she was hearing? “You and I? What about you and I?”

Archie looked flustered. “You and I—well, we can get back together!”

She did not know what to say. She stood there, staring at him, lips parted in shock.

She looked at the faces around her, as if to verify if this was actually happening. Nobody said anything, but she was pretty sure this wasn’t just a bad dream.  “Is that why you’re here? You think that just because you ended it with Tina that I would come running back to you? I mean--why would you--?”

She cut herself off, pursing her lips. _Of course_ he would think so. _Of course._

She had never given Archie a reason to think that she would ever say no to him. She was Betty and she always made sure Archie’s ass was covered.

Archie seemed completely confused. “If you’re worried about the caterers and all, your mom worked that all out. We can still have the wedding, just at a different time, that’s all!”

Betty’s felt impossibly hot tears of humiliation fill her eyes. _This_ was how Archie saw her. This was how he thought of her. A complete and utter doormat.

“Th-that’s _all?_ Are you—are you fucking kidding me, Archie? There was a _sex video_ of you and Tina-- _two days_ before our wedding! All over the internet, across the quadrants! And that video was in our bedroom, Archie. You were sleeping with someone else _in our bedroom._ How fucking dare you?”

“She didn’t mean anything!” Archie cried, matching her increasingly loud  tone. “It’s not like I loved her or anything. I mean, does it even count if I don’t?”

Betty didn’t know what to say. Is that what he’d been thinking the whole time? That it didn’t count because he wasn’t in love with Tina? That probably made it even worse.

He was just so infuriatingly _stupid._ She couldn’t believe she was willing to marry him. What had she been thinking?    

“Of course it fucking counts!” she yelled. “You weren’t just my fiance, you were supposed to be my friend! You don’t lie to your _friends,_ Arch! You tell them, point blank, if you don’t love them anymore…” Her voice trailed, feeling every bit the hypocrite she suddenly realized she was.

She hadn’t loved Archie for a long time. She’d known that for a while--even before she ended things, but she had been so focused on her own humiliation about the entire thing that she failed to realize that there were two people in that relationship and either one of them could’ve spoken up about their waning feelings.

And Veronica… Veronica hadn’t been at fault at all.  

_She was just the messenger..._

“Well, you hadn’t been putting out!” Archie yelled back, cutting through her spiraling thoughts. “What was I supposed to do?”

Betty’s hands flew to her face in shock, and Jellybean’s voice rang through the room.  “Oh, _hell no.”_

Betty was mortified beyond belief, at what Archie said, her own shortcomings, at her horrible treatment of Veronica, and everything else that was happening, at this moment. Her eyes filled again, but this time, it overflowed. It was all too humiliating.

Her inadvertent wimper cut through the air and Jughead’s sharp gaze fell upon her at the sound. She wished, manically, that a hole would open up to suck her into space. But then Jughead’s face hardened, and he turned slowly in Archie’s direction.

Though Archie saw him coming and appeared to be bracing himself, Betty already knew Archie didn’t stand a chance. Jughead was trained for this kind of confrontation and because of his job, he had _practice._

Archie swung, and Jughead easily swatted his punch away. In the next second, Jughead’s fist was flying and it connected. Hard.

Jughead’s punch landed right on Archie’s nose, unleashing a spray of loose petals all over the common room floor.

The crunch of bone was distinct, and all Betty could do was watch it all with horrified fascination.

Archie stumbled backwards, hit the back of his head against the wall, and fell to the floor in an awkward heap, clutching his nose. By the posture of Jughead’s shoulders, he wasn’t done. He would’ve gotten on a full mount and beat Archie some more if FP hadn’t thrown himself at Jughead and dragged him away.

“Boy!”

For another second, Jughead tried to push through the barrier that was FP Jones, and the fact was, FP wasn’t quite strong enough to restrain Jughead, but FP was his father and FP didn’t need brute strength to tame his son.

FP grabbed Jughead by the collar of his coat and slammed him against the wall, looking his son straight in the eyes. “You gonna kill that bozo, Jug? Are you?”

“By the time I’m done with him, he’s gonna want me to!” Jughead spat back.

“My nose!” Archie moaned in the background.

Betty didn’t stay for the aftermath.  She was walking away. Fast and hard.

She couldn’t, anymore.

She just couldn’t.

 

****************

 

Jughead had never felt so furious in his life.

And it wasn’t just a sudden onset of rage. It was a slow buildup, starting with the appearance of this pretty boy called Archie, the outrageously familiar way that Archie addressed Betty, and then Archie’s unbelievably gross entitlement.

That last bit about what Betty _wouldn’t_ do with him was the last straw. Jughead saw the tears in Betty’s eyes and he snapped.  He was _done._ He was going to beat the living shit out of Archie and he was going to wish he never came to the Whyte Wyrm.

Before Jughead even realized it, Archie was on the floor and FP was shoving him up against the wall, telling him that if he beat Archie Andrews ugly, the possibilities for legal torment and suffering would be endless.

“And what would the ESDC have to say about it, huh?” FP growled. “You gonna tell them you beat an idiot fop who’s no match for a trained Def Cor officer? Because why--he disrespected your girl?”

Jughead struggled to get FP’s hands off him, focusing on the one thing that struck him the most. “She’s not my--”

“Shove it, kid. I ain’t botherin’ with labels now. We’ll talk about that some other time, but I need you to simmer down and not let this idiot ruin your life!”

Jughead breathed, and he realized that he was snarling.  He gave his father one last push, which made FP stumble back, but Jughead didn’t resume his onslaught on Archie.  The man was down for the count, anyway, rolling on the floor as he moaned in pain.

“You’re a fucking animal!” Archie cried. “You fucking broke my nose!”

“You go check on Betty,” FP told him.  “Make sure she’s okay. JB and I’ll take care of this clown.”

Jughead stalked off in the direction of the engine room, Archie’s words ringing in his head. There were so many things wrong with it. Like, did he even know what he had been saying?

Jughead was worried about Betty. He had never seen her crumble like that. Had never seen her look so hurt. So heartbroken.

_So heartbroken…_

His steps slowed, and as he reached the engine room door, he stopped, holding the handle but not moving it.

It began to dawn on him--what all of this was about.

A little over four months ago, she was supposed to marry Archie Andrews. With a called off wedding and perhaps more humiliation than Betty Cooper ever thought possible, she got on the Whyte Wyrm to run away from it all.

Jughead’s hand fell away and he backed away from the door. Heading in the opposite direction, he took the stairs down to the lower levels to their onboard shooting range, hoping to drown his thoughts in the loud clap of simulated gunfire.

 

*******************

 

Whenever Betty’s anxiety overcame her--when her nails drew blood and her thoughts were spinning in a never ending cycle of self-blame--she would lie down and close her eyes, hoping for sleep.

It didn’t always come to ease her troubles, but when it did, she could nod off between 30 minutes to 2 hours.

This time, when she opened her eyes, an hour had passed and her neck felt stiff. Her sleep hadn’t refreshed her at all, but she hoped that to some degree, she was better equipped at handling her emotions.

She looked at her palms. They were a crusty, bloody mess.

Sighing, she pushed herself up and made her way to the cramped powder room downstairs. It was 3 feet long and two feet wide. Just small enough to make bathroom breaks as unpleasant as possible. She was able to wash her hands, however, and the small roll of medical tape she had, mostly for patching up her minor work cuts, was barely enough for the wounds on her palms. She would need to replenish her supply.

Brushing back her hair and fixing her ponytail, she washed her face of tear stains and determined that her eyes weren’t too swollen. Quietly, so as not to attract attention from anyone, she made her way to the bridge.  

Her personal comm would’ve been enough for what she needed to do, but she needed the stronger signal of the bridge comm. She wanted her message to be completely clear.

Betty hailed Veronica.

The soft bleeping of Veronica’s own device sounded through the quiet room. Soon enough, her hails went to voice message.

_“You’ve reached Veronica Lodge. Leave your name, your comm link, and the reason for your call. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”_

Betty sighed. Veronica always picked up, then again, she might not recognize this link, so Veronica was probably just screening. When the beep signaled the start of the recording, Betty sighed and began to speak. “Hi V. It’s me, Betty. I know, it’s been a while. You probably don’t want to talk to me right now and I understand, but I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry for the things I said to you. I know. It’s long overdue and I’ve been a real bitch about all of it. Things were said between us that we both probably regret, but none of that would’ve happened if I’d just been a better friend. You didn’t deserve my anger. You were just looking out for me and I--I blamed you for everything. You’re absolutely right, of course. Archie’s a huge idiot--”

The comm beeped, and Veronica’s face appeared on the screen all of a sudden, her slanted dark eyes all fire and determination. “Say that last part again.”

Betty blinked, surprised. “Archie’s a huge id--”

“Not that. The one before that.”

Betty chuckled in resignation. “You’re absolutely right.”

Veronica gave a pert nod and flipped her rich black hair over her shoulder. “And don’t you ever forget that, B. Veronica Lodge is never wrong. The next time you doubt me again, I want you to remember this day.”

Betty nodded, pursing her lips. She lowered her eyes, shamefaced. “I will. I’m really sorry, V. I don’t know--I don’t know why I turned you away. You’d been telling me for two years that Archie’s an awful boyfriend and I just--”

“Decided to ignore me,” Veronica finished with a raise of her eyebrow.

Betty nodded.

“B,” Veronica continued with a softer voice. “When you told me you were going to marry that lunkhead, I needed to take desperate action. And I know that you’re a scientist. You needed proof, so I got it for you, but I swear to God, B, I never intended for that porno to go public. That goddamn TMC--”

“V, that wasn’t your fault.” Betty knew that now. “Not even if you handed that recording to TMC yourself. Archie’s a cheat. I guess I always kind of knew it. I never told him I was on the pill and I always insisted on wearing protection, but I couldn’t very well tell him to get tested because that would mean me admitting that he probably cheated on me, constantly.”

Veronica sighed and rolled her necklace of pearls between her thumb and forefinger. “Betty. Honey. I said things, too. It got a little out of hand and for that, I’m sorry, too.”

Betty shook her head. “You don’t need to apologize. The things you said to me--I provoked them. And every word of it was probably true, anyway. I just--I didn’t want to accept it and I lashed out at you.”

Veronica leaned over the comm. “You had a picture in your head of the beautiful boy and girl next door ending up together and having gorgeous children. You’ve had this dream since you were 5, and marrying him was the culmination of years of hard work. Becoming Betty Andrews meant you were perfect. Calling him out, breaking up with him--changing that dream for something you hadn’t planned, that had the potential to ruin everything.”

Betty had figured that out, already. Too many hours sitting in her loft, watching quiet space, she knew everything Veronica said was true. “I wasn’t even heartbroken by the video, V. I was just--humiliated, and devastated that my plans weren’t going the way I wanted. It wasn’t so much about getting cheated on and more about my house of cards getting knocked down.”

“I know.”

“Do you forgive me? I’ll make it up to you, somehow…”

“I forgive you, B. Forgave you a couple of months ago. I just didn’t know how to get in touch with you.”

Betty leaned back on her seat, smiling at her beautiful best friend. She put her hands out as if to present her surroundings of blinking lights, monitors, and semi-ancient electronics.  “I’ve been hiding out in this ship. Adventuring across the galaxy. But I miss you, V. I wish you were here.”

“I miss you, too. However, I know that you’re doing what you want to do, for once.”

She’d known Veronica for a little over ten years now, and her vivacious, gutsy, fierce friend knew _her._ That she didn’t need to explain to Veronica why she was on this ship made Betty’s heart ache for her best friend even more.

“Archie’s here,” Betty finally said.

Veronica’s eyes widened in shock. “Are you serious?”

“Very.”

“Oh, my God! What did he want? Whatever he tells you, Betty, don’t believe him. Don’t give in. He will cheat on you again!”

Betty laughed, adjusting herself on her seat to make herself more comfortable. “Relax, V. I have no desire to put myself through that indignity again. My only regret is that I didn’t have the guts to break up with him before we even got engaged.”

“So, did you kick him in the balls?”

“I probably should’ve.”

She thought about how the conversation in the common room had paralyzed her with mortification and regret. How she had, even then, run instead of confront Archie, and how the entire time, she had stayed behind the protective circle of Jughead.

She had been such a coward. “Listen, I need to do something about the Archie situation, so I have to go, but I hope we can talk again, V. Soon. I did just want to call you and start--fixing what I broke with you. I’m--I’m really sorry.”

Veronica nodded. “Yes, girl. We must talk again. Tell me all about your adventures on that ship, and if you need anything--clothes, moisturizers, vibrators…”

Betty cast her a smirk. “I don’t need vibrators.”

“Girl!”

“Later. Bye!”

 

********************

 

She found them all in the common room, Archie’s face swollen, but bandaged, Jughead scowling on the sofa chair, FP standing between them, and Jellybean and Hotdog lounging on the nearby stairwell.

They all looked up when she arrived and she wondered if something else could’ve possibly happened. They look like they had bad news.

“What’s going on?” Betty asked.

FP ruffled his hair. “This bozo over here couldn’t leave just yet. The next Jumper transport out of here that could take him to the second quadrant isn’t due to pass by for another three days.”

She frowned. “I don’t see what the problem is. Why can’t we just leave his ass in some space hostel? I don’t want to be stuck here because of him!”

“Hey!” Archie said.

Betty glared at him. “You’re a grown ass man with money. You can take care of yourself.”

FP made a sound. “See, bozo apparently doesn’t bring money with him, his credit cards don’t work all the way here, and his only means of getting credits isn’t due to come for another--”

“Three days,” she finished for FP, miserably. “I’ll lend you money, Arch. I swear to God, this is the _last time_ I will ever bail you out again. Wire me back the credits--”

“Do you have 1,500 credits? A night?”

Betty’s jaw dropped. “Where the hell are you staying, the Ritz Carlton? Get your spoiled rich ass into a 50 credit a night hostel and get the hell off our ship!”

“I wish it _were_ the Ritz Carlton, then I wouldn’t have to stay here and--and sleep with one eye open!” He glanced uneasily at Jughead, who still hadn’t stopped glaring at him. “But it’s either I stay at that expensive as fuck tourist hostel or I slum it at the Pens.”

“A tourist hostel is charging you that much?” She looked him over, saw his watch, and scowled. She pointed to it.  “You couldn’t bother to part with your Vacheron Constantin for the five minutes you spoke to them over the comm? No wonder they gouged you! Then again, they might take that watch in lieu of units. What’s that go for now, 20-K?”

Archie frowned and clapped a hand over his watch. “25. You know dad gave me this watch. He’ll be heartbroken if I lose it.”

“Well, they’ll certainly kill you for it in the Pens, that’s for sure.”

“You’re stone cold, B,” said Archie, darkly, then he grinned. “I like you this way.”

Betty glared at him and she could feel her fists clenching hard. If it weren’t for the bandages around her hands, she would be shedding blood right now. The Pens were a dormitory for the Jumpers, offering basic room and board for the overnight traveler, but it was rough. Like prison, perhaps. At any rate, Archie’s rich lily white ass wouldn’t survive the night, especially not if he had a bandage on his face and a watch that cost a small fortune. Those guys could smell blood a mile away.

She looked at FP and Jughead again. “You’re going to make him pay us, aren’t you?”

Archie laughed. “Good one, B.”

“I’m not kidding, Archie. Those days when I let you take advantage of me? _Over._ You pay us for staying here, or I will jettison you into space myself. Are we clear?”

Archie looked dumbfounded, but she wasn’t going to let those puppy-dog eyes of his deter her.

His shoulders slackened with defeat. “Yeah. I’ll wire you guys the--”

“Great! Settled! Now stay out of my way.” She turned to Jughead then, her eyes softening. “Juggie, can I talk to you for a second?”

He glanced briefly at his father, whose eyebrow lifted slightly. Without a word, Jughead stood and followed her.

She led them to ship bay, far from prying ears. There was a wide view window along one side of it, and next to the window were exhaust vents where the toxic fumes of their ships were blown back out into space.

She knew the Jones men smoked in ship bay every so often, usually when they were doing maintenance on their crafts. She’d been called several times in the last four months for help and she knew, just by hanging around, that it was where father and son caught up on each other’s lives in a casual, non-touchy-feely way.

These Joneses, generally so closed off and stubborn, gave a little bit when they were busy in ship bay.

Betty never intruded. She would put on her earphones and work on their engines while they spoke in the background.

This time, she was going to borrow some of that ship bay ambience.

Jughead dug a cigarette from one of his many pants pockets and lit up. His eyes flickered to her hands. “Those okay? You didn’t have them earlier.”

She tucked her hands behind her. She didn’t come here to discuss her anxiety. “They’re fine. I just wanted to--I wanted to thank you for sticking up for me earlier. I--I’m usually better at handling myself in difficult situations but this time I froze.” She swallowed, embarrassed. “I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do.”

His eyebrow arched, the tendrils of smoke curling from the cigarette tucked between his lips creating a picture of a rebel born of the silver screen.

Even surrounded by all this technology, he had such a classic face. She didn’t know what her definition of good looking had been before she met him, but she could imagine that her tastes had leaned a little more clean-cut. Never the brooding, dangerous type like this. With the rough and tumble hair and piercing blue eyes. Not until now.

“He’s a douche,” Jughead said. “I couldn’t let him talk to you like that.”

She was tempted to point out that he _could’ve_ let Archie talk to her like that. Jughead was under no obligation whatsoever to defend her honor, but she bit her lip and said, instead, “I guess he’d been talking to me like that for a long time. I just never--I never called him out on it.”

He seemed perplexed. “But why? You can have anyone you want, Betty Cooper. Why’d you let this asshole take the best of you? Didn’t sound like he gave anything back.”

Her face reddened. “I don’t know. I guess because I was told that was the way it was supposed to be. I was given a plan and I was expected to follow it, and it looked reasonable enough at first blush. Date the boy next door--the popular, rich jock whom everyone liked and voted for in everything--Class President, Homecoming King, Prom King, Football Captain--while being a cheerleader who also won science fairs and wore promise rings--”

He seemed amused now. _“Promise rings?”_

She wagged a finger at him, grinning. “Hey, I held out until I was 18.”

Now that she thought about it, perhaps holding out for that long hadn’t been so much willpower as it was her reluctance to let Archie have her first time. He had never quite put her in enough of a mood to _want_ him. The only reason she gave in eventually was because he said something along the lines of, “It’s alright. I get it. You don’t love me,” which spiralled into all of her hopes and dreams being completely derailed by their breakup. So she had sex with him. It was… okay.

She didn’t have anything to compare with until later, when there was a brief period in her relationship with Archie that they broke it off for about six months and she had a dalliance with a man named Trevor Brown.   _He_ had shown her a good time, but since they had both been overseas, that whirlwind relationship hadn’t lasted, and when she got back to New York, Archie was begging her to be with him again.

Of course, she later found out that he had slept with multiple women during their time away from each other, but again, she had shrugged it off. They were broken up. He could do whatever the hell he wanted. It wasn’t as if she had remained celibate herself.

The problem, of course, was that now she knew what she liked in bed and Archie wasn’t exactly giving it.

“18,” Jughead repeated with a soft chuckle. “Was that when you decided Archie was the one?”

She shrugged. “It was never like that. He was part of the plan and things were going accordingly. I was going to college to be a rocket scientist, I had my perfect boyfriend, and I was surrounded by the right people. Never mind that my parents were in a loveless marriage, my sister was rebelling, and my brother was getting heavily addicted to drugs. I was _fine,_ and that’s all that mattered.”

He was slightly taken aback. “Sorry about your brother.”

“He’s in rehab.” She sighed. “I’ll deal with him when I’ve got my own head on straight.” She looked briefly at her hands but quickly looked up, lest he noticed them again. “When Archie asked me to marry him, it was the culmination of all those years of being good and perfect.”

Jughead blew out some smoke. “Where’d it go wrong, princess?”

She chuckled. “I said yes.”

 

**************

 

She said yes.

That’s where she says it went wrong. When she said yes. He tried, and failed, to stomp out that glimmer of hope that was threatening to burst.

He stuck his cigarette in his mouth again. It felt, at the moment, like a shield. “Isn’t that supposed to be the moment where you get your happy ending?”

She sighed and bent over the railing to lean on her elbows. “Hardly. My best friend, Veronica Lodge, saw it for the code red that it was. She’d been telling me the last couple of years that Archie was a scoundrel, but I was so hell-bent on making sure everything would go according to plan that I never listened to her. So in a final act of desperation, she had someone spy on him.”

“That where the video comes in?”

She nodded. “Veronica showed me that video and it all fell apart. The plan, the wedding, the relationship-- _all_ my relationships. I was mad at V, but when that video leaked on TMC, I was furious and mortified and I blamed V for ruining everything. She didn’t leak that video. It was probably the PI, but in my obsession for perfection, I made it her fault. I was a shit friend, Jug. Like, the lowest of the low. I don’t deserve her.”

He looked at her, with her perfect ponytail and her beautiful, angel face. His hand itched to reach out and touch her, but he told himself not yet. Even as she laid herself bare, making known her flaws and faults. “You’re a human being, Betts. We’re all allowed to make mistakes.”

“I never felt human until I started living on this ship.” She turned to look at him. “I never let myself like the things I do until you guys taught me it was okay.”

He looked at her hands again, wanting to ask her if she was _really_ okay, but then she shoved her hands back into her pockets when she noticed him looking.

He willed his mouth to speak the questions in his head. _Am I your rebound guy, Betts?_

When did that stop being enough? When did he start thinking that maybe there could be more? Why did he even let himself get to this point?

Instead, he put out his cigarette. “Did you love him?”

She shrugged. “I loved the idea of him more than I loved him. I guess a small part of me sees him still as my friend. I looked out for him and made sure he got through okay. If I had kept my expectations of him to that, we’d have been better off. We’d be friends still, him and I. Now I just want to punch him in the face.”

“You still could.”

He could tell she was trying not to smile.

“You didn’t leave much for me, cowboy.”

Desire coursed through him and he cursed himself for being so weak of will. He chastised himself for falling to pieces everytime she called him that and told himself that he had to have some self-respect.

“There’s plenty other parts of him that could hurt if you hit it.”  He wasn’t sure if he was just talking about Archie.

He motioned to head back to the ship. She might have reached for him but it was such a fleeting gesture that it could’ve just been the movement of her hand. “I gotta get back inside.”

She nodded, her wide green eyes tearing him apart. He had to look away.

As he headed for the door, she called to him and reluctantly, he turned to look at her. She was so beautiful and he wanted to tell her that he could see her hands, saw the bandages, knew she could use some help, but if she didn’t want to share that part of herself, then it wasn’t his business, right?

“Are we good, Jones?” she asked, quietly.

He swallowed. “Yeah. We’re good.” He turned before she could say anything else.

 

*************************

 

They weren’t good.

She hadn’t been with Jughead for almost 3 days and she knew that he was actively avoiding her.

To make matters worse, Archie wouldn’t leave her alone.

It seemed like the one thing that would’ve made Archie completely devoted to her was her treating him like shit, which Betty thought was all kinds of fucked up.

It irritated her that Archie had, all along, needed nothing but her worse, and she had never in her life wanted anything more than for him to leave, because if he didn’t, she was in dire danger of smothering him with a pillow.

She had more important things to worry about than tell Archie off, like keeping this ship running and figuring out why Jughead suddenly wasn’t as glad to have her around as he used to.

He was still warm when they _had_ to interact. He still had that look in his eyes, the one that made her feel like he was really listening, the one that made her feel wanted and tingly when he was around, but he no longer sought her out like he used to. He didn’t come knocking on her bedroom door at night. He didn’t try to get her alone to steal a kiss.

She was too afraid to try to initiate, herself, because she feared what his rejection would do to her. Probably die slowly inside.

Veronica knew. Betty told her everything, and Veronica had fevered ideas of Betty showing up in his room in sexy lingerie and maybe handcuffs.

“Where would I even get that, V? I can’t order that stuff in. FP will see the label on that box—“

Veronica waved her concerns away. “They’re discreet. You can make it say what you want. Label it warp core, or something.”

“Those don’t come in small boxes, V.”

“Whatever! Just get your boy in the bedroom!”

Betty gave a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know if that’s the issue. He wants me. I know he does, because he still stares at my ass and looks down my shirt. I think—I think I disappointed him, V. I think he thought I was this perfect little angel and when I told him what I did to you and what I let Archie do to me, he must’ve—I don’t know, realized how fucked up I am.”

She didn’t tell Veronica that Jughead kept looking at the bandages around her hands, too. How she felt that Jughead must think she was broken inside.

She didn’t think he was being a jerk about it, just that he probably thought it best that he not engage in a physical relationship with someone who might need therapy.

_Because feelings could get hurt and people like me self harm…._

It made her wonder whether she should swear to him up and down that she was fine, that she hadn’t actually hurt herself in months, and that she had some pretty effective coping mechanisms—like tinkering with engines, writing formulas and equations, and generally spending time with non-toxic people.

But that would probably have the opposite effect. She would, for sure, sound manic and insane.

Veronica had frowned at her theory. “B, he doesn’t sound like the kind of guy who would dump you for being imperfect. That’s the old Betty talking. Have a little faith in him and in yourself. Talk to him. Find out what’s up and quit guessing. If it’s the end of this, then at least you know.”

Betty always loved Veronica for her No-Guts-No-Glory attitude--Betty drew a lot of inspiration from it, but for every 9 things that Betty would bravely do, there was always the 1 out of 10 that Betty had to work herself up to.

Talking to Jughead about _this_ was the one.

She didn’t want to lose what they had. Or if she’d already lost it, she wasn’t ready to know, like Schrodinger's cat, except for relationships, or something like it.

As she sat at her engine room work desk, a makeshift surface with organized shelves along the sides and a chair she dragged in from somewhere else on the ship, she scribbled on her notebook a nonsensical equation about the probability of Jughead telling her that it was all just a fevered dream or him dumping her ass, if what they had could be classified as something that can even be dumped.

She was working in factors like cramped spaces and annoying ex-fiances when said ex-fiance materialized.

“Archie,” she said, not bothering to hide her disappointment at seeing him. When she heard the engine room door groan open, she had been hoping it would be someone else.

Archie grinned through the bandage on his face. “So I talked to the guys who’ll be getting me out of here and I found out that they’re delayed by several hours. I won’t be leaving until tomorrow morning.”

Her heart sank. The thought that she had to bear another day with Archie hovering around her was exhausting in the extreme. Rolling her eyes, she returned to her nonsense scribbling. _“Great.”_

The sarcasm in her tone was thick enough that even Archie caught on to it. “What? I thought that’d be good news!”

“You’d think that, right?”

Archie didn’t leave. “Now, hold on. You said it yourself: we were friends once.  Can we at least talk about what happened to us and—I don’t know, finally put this to bed?”

She frowned, setting aside her notebook. “I thought I did that when I left Earth.”

“What you did when you left Earth was leave all of us wondering what the hell you thought you were doing.”

This was just all the more reason for her to break out in hives whenever Archie was around. He couldn’t even be bothered to figure out her motivations. He was either too dumb or too lazy. He had to be fed everything.

To be fair, it wasn’t as if there was a precedence for her actions. She had never just up and left. She never felt the need to run away from anything on impulse before.

“I didn’t leave Earth for you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

He looked at his feet. “I didn’t say you did,” he grumbled, which was kind of a giveaway that he had.

She tilted her head to give him a somewhat sympathetic smile. “Yeah, no. That ship, as they say, has sailed. You were right about me not putting out. The fact is, I didn’t want to have to sex with you anymore.”

 _“Yeowch,_ B. Well, how about now?”

“I still don’t.”

He looked at her with concern. “Did you just--did your _equipment_ stop working or something?”

Wow.

So typical of Archie to just assume that it wasn’t him. “My equipment works perfectly, just that in lieu of your dick, I’d rather use vibrators.”

_And someone else’s dick, but that’s none of your business, Archie._

Now he looked like she had just slapped him on the face.

“That’s right, Arch.” She wagged a finger between them. “You and me--we sucked in bed. I don’t want to put all the blame on you, but you seemed to be enjoying yourself, so… and it’s not just that. I was tired. I was tired of always watching over you, making sure you don’t look too boneheaded, or that you get a C instead of an F on your test, or that you put in the minimum hours for what I’ve started to call your _Wish Day.”_

“Wish day?”

She scratched at her scalp in irritation. “You know, an entire day for you to do a good deed. Like when I dragged you to Habitat for Humanity and when there was that disaster in Bangladesh and they needed boots on the ground to help… remember?”

“Oh, yeah! I totally owned Habitat. Like, there was all this heavy lifting of _things_ and you know I’m handy with construction stuff.”

Betty stifled a sigh and she did manage a half smile of sorts. “Yeah. That. So it was only in the last year it occurred to me that if you can wake up at 4 in the morning to go work out at the gym or follow a strict diet because it’s part of the whole--I don’t know-- _Ninja Soldier--”_

 _“Warrior._ It’s warrior.”

 _“Ninja Warrior_ program, then you were, in spite of your intellectual shortcomings, entirely capable of taking care of yourself. And the fact is, I might have been trying to shape you into something you were never going to be--a book reading, do-gooder, action-oriented intellectual who sought a higher purpose in life…” She sighed and buried her face in her hands. _Oh, Jug…_

“Sorry.” Archie grumbled.

She looked up and shook her head. “It’s not your fault. You are who you are, Arch. It was unfair of me to put all of that on you, and it took a scandal and the empty reaches of space for me to realize that if I had been better for you, you might have turned out better, yourself. We weren’t good for one another. I’d known that long before the video. I just didn’t want to knock down my house of cards.”

She had a feeling her metaphor didn’t quite land with Archie, but he didn’t ask. He just nodded and looked at his feet. “I’m sorry I cheated on you. I cheated on you _a lot_ to be honest.”

“I’d say it doesn’t take a rocket scientist, but I’m a rocket scientist, and I didn’t even want to believe it until I saw the video, so this is a little awkward.”

“I couldn’t help it? It was an accident?”

It was hilarious to her that he was phrasing these confessions like a question.  She supposed he still wasn’t used to thinking for himself when she was around.

“Oh, the old You Tripped and Your Dick Fell into a Pussy? Yeah. Happens all the time.” She waved at him flippantly. It was amazing how all this was rolling off her back right now. Four months ago, she would’ve been furious at herself, wondering just how many of Archie’s buddies were laughing behind her back about him getting away with it all.

It still stung her pride a bit, but out here in the 4th quadrant, figuring out what really mattered and what didn’t, she felt incredibly free.

“So, uh, you and GI Jones…”

Her eyebrow raised in surprise. “Excuse me? GI Jones?”

“Jughead.”

Betty tried her hardest not to laugh. “Jughead. Yeah.”

“He, uh, your boyfriend?”

“What do you care?” she muttered, annoyed by this conversation all of a sudden. She picked up her pen and opened her notebook, hoping it would be Archie’s cue to go away.

Archie shrugged and tucked his hands into his pockets. “Nothing. Just--quick replacement, B.”

She slammed her pen down on her desk, incensed by Archie’s assumptions. “What I have with Jughead has nothing whatsoever to do with you, Arch. Just back off, alright?”

He put his hands up. “Jeez. Sorry. Just thought it was a quick rebound. I mean, I didn’t realize it at first, but when he got all pissy about me looking at your legs, I figured--.”

She scowled. “What did you just say?”

“About your legs?”

“No, about it being a quick--”

“Rebound? Yeah. There goes my pride, I guess. I thought you’d wait at least another six months--”

She put her things away in a hurry and got up from her seat, telling Archie in quick narration that the last time they broke up, she was having sex with Trevor within that six month period they were separated.

Archie blinked. “You had sex with someone else?”

“I have sex with other boys, Arch. Deal with it,” she said, hurriedly as she fixed her hair and made sure she looked mildly presentable. “So, are we done, Arch? I mean, I guess you’re sticking around for another day, but if I don’t see you before you go, don’t go looking for me. Bye. See you in--I don’t know. We don’t have to see each other.”

Archie waved awkwardly, like he thought she was going to hug him but she was only really trying to walk past him. “Yeah. I guess… in case I don’t see you, take care of yourself, B. Anything you want me to tell your mom for you?”

“No!” she cried over her shoulder as she left the engine room and went looking for Jughead GI Jones.

 

************************

 

She looked for him, first in ship bay, because it was the nearest one. When he wasn’t there but Hitchcock was, she went to his room. She typed in his code, hoping he hadn’t changed it. He hadn’t, and even if he wasn’t in it, she couldn’t help but wonder whether he had left that code unchanged in the off chance that she would let herself in while he was in it.

_Those wasted hours…._

She went to the galley, and everywhere else. She couldn’t find him.

“If you’re looking for Jug, he’s at the shooting range.”

Betty turned at the sound of Jellybean’s voice.  She was splayed across a narrow hallway, Hotdog as her pillow, a keyboard on her lap. Two screens were being projected on the opposite wall and her eyes were shifting between them.  She was definitely up to something but around the Wyrm, they never asked. It was better not to know.

_The shooting range. Of course._

They had a gun range at the ship’s hold. Of course she’d been there. She’d had to be whenever FP taught her how to shoot, because in their business, she had to know how to handle a gun.

It wasn’t live fire, that was for sure, but the simulation was superb--one of the best on the market. Jughead’s hookup, if she recalled what FP told her correctly. She’d imagine that the ESDC contractors would be willing to keep their primary clients always ready and willing to buy their firearms. A gun range simulation chamber wouldn’t cost them much to discount outrageously.  

She hadn’t realized that Jughead liked to hang around there in his leisure time. Then again, they’d hadn’t been marooned in space for more than a couple of days at a time, waiting for a rich idiot to get picked up by his ride.  

The sound of gunfire clapped softly through the hallways. The simulation afforded some sound proofing from the outsides. Inside, she’d have to wear ear protection.

As the gunshots tapped in steady staccato, Betty geared up in earmuffs, simulation eyewear, and even a gun--she might want to try some rounds if things got terribly awkward. The gun was part of the simulator, of course.  It didn’t have to be loaded with live rounds.

It was as heavy as it should be, and it simulated the lessening weight of it at each shot. There were mechanisms on it that simulated loading a clip. It still had to be cocked. The safety still needed to be disabled. It was a gun, except that it didn’t shoot real bullets.   

She scanned the gun at the door and a screen explained the model and make of it, telling her how to load it and how to cock it, how to hold it and how to aim. It was all very instructional and amazing. She ignored the soothing drone of the computer’s voice as she pushed the button for the door to slide open.

The sound of gunfire got louder, but her earmuffs kept her eardrums safe. She closed the door behind her and watched Jughead for a few seconds from the glass starting booth.

He was doing a straight up gun range. No courses. No enemies to dodge. No moving targets. He had a stationary shadow man. That was it.  

The range was calibrated according to the weapon he was holding.  If he had a handgun, the virtual range was set to around 15 yards. If he had a long-range rifle, it went up to over 1,600 meters.

Right now he had the handgun, and his posture was perfect. His aim, however, needed work. Actually, it didn’t. Jughead was a good shot, but he was possibly a little distracted.

Betty hoped.

Gingerly, she made her way to the booth next to him.  Simulation or not, you never wanted to sneak up on Jughead Jones when he had a gun in his hand.

She waved through the plexiglass divider to get his attention and when he saw her, the only indication of his surprise was the arch of his eyebrow above the frame of his simulation glasses.

He set his gun and glasses down on the table in front of him and removed his ear protection.

She did the same.  “Engine’s working perfectly, so I thought I might practice my shooting.”

He didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds, like he wasn’t sure what to say. “Might as well make use of the extra time.”

She nodded. “I mean, I guess this works out. We haven’t had time to catch up the last few days.”

“Yeah.” He sighed quietly and turned away. “I’ve been busy.”

He was lying, and for a moment she thought about chickening out. Maybe he really didn’t want to continue what they had, but she told herself she’d gotten this far, and that she was Betty Cooper--she never half-assed things and she was going to see this through, even if it meant she would be a sobbing mess in front of Veronica when next they talked over comm.

“Me too,” she chimed. “I’ve been mending bridges with V.”

“V?”

“Veronica. You know, the best friend that I treated like shit? We’ve been talking and catching up. It’s been great.”

He still looked a little uncomfortable, but at least he’d turned his body towards her. This was good. “You miss her?”

“So much,” she said, with feeling. “V’s amazing. She and I tell each other everything and she’s one of my staunchest allies. I really wish you could meet her one of these days.”

He paused again, but this time he looked more thoughtful than speechless. “Wonder what she’d think of me.”

“She thinks you’re great,” she said, immediately. “Well, from what I’ve told her of you, at least.”

It then occurred what he meant by “what she’d think of me.” It went back to what he thought of himself, how he’d gone up to Betty in ship bay and told her that he was a roughneck, gunslinging, cowboy, which implied that Veronica might not be impressed by that.

“Well, if I do meet her,” Jughead said, picking up his gun and checking its alignment, which was probably some kind of habit considering what he was holding wasn’t a real gun. “I hope I live up to her expectations.”

“I think she’ll be duly impressed, honestly. I doubt she’s met anyone like you, cowboy.”

He looked up from his gun, briefly, to catch her eye, but he looked away before she could determine if it was significant or not.

“Archie’s going to get held up for another day,” she said before the silence got prolonged. She hated this. Hated that she was trying to get to Jughead and she couldn’t quite reach. They were better than this, but he had something hanging over his head and she wanted to sweep it away.  “We’d have to endure him for another few hours, but thank goodness he’s leaving first thing. I already said goodbye to him so that he doesn’t have to come looking for me when he _does_ have to leave.  Like, I never felt this ship was small until Archie stuck around, and then he was everywhere and I couldn’t shake him off.”

He gave a soft snort. “Yeah, he’s something…”

This was awkward. This was going sideways.

She just wanted to get him to talk to her like he used to talk to her, when the conversation was easy and he was his charming, smug self.  

She needed to stop talking about other people, especially if it’s Archie. She needed to focus on _Jughead,_ and what she felt for him.  

Gingerly, she rounded the plexiglass separating them, stepping into his booth. He leaned back against the opposite wall and she did the same on her side. She wanted to be in his space, but she didn’t want to push too much, either.

She settled a hand on the table, absently tracing the frame of his glasses with her finger.

“I’ve missed you,” she finally said.

He didn’t say anything, but he was looking at her and he wasn’t averting his eyes.

“And not just--” she bit her lip. “Not just the sex. I miss talking to you about books, and alien food, and planetary destinations. I always like it when you talk about the Def Cor and you don’t mind listening to me when I talk about engines and the stupid shows I watch on my comm.”

There was a small shift in his stance. Very slight, but she realized how attuned she was to his body when she noticed how the stiffness in his shoulders melted away and how the tension dissipated from the skin around his eyes. “I missed you, too.”

Her heart soared. “Then why didn’t you come talk to me?”

His gaze lowered to her hands and for a moment, her fists curled and she thought about putting them away, but he reached across the table, sliding his hand over hers and running his thumb over the bandages on her palm.

“How did you get these?” he asked, turning her hand over and smoothing his thumb over her knuckles. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

She took a deep breath. She wasn’t sure how she was going to answer that. Nobody has ever asked her before. Archie never did, but neither did Veronica or her mother. She had kept her wounds hidden with better bandaids and some select pieces of clothing.

Here on the ship, she was less prepared for it.  She didn’t think she needed to hide any wounds she got on the Wyrm, until now.  

“Self harm,” she finally said. “I used to do it constantly in my teens and in college--helps release the pressure, then when it was getting more impossible to hide, I found ways to cope. To keep them few and far between. Until the other day, I hadn’t done it in _months,_ so I’m--” she paused and continued, “--mostly fine.”

He cupped her hand in both of his. “How long were you with Archie?”

She sighed at the change in topic, though she wasn’t sure if this was better than talking about her anxiety.

_This is better than not talking at all._

She replied. “A little over ten years, maybe?”

“And when he asked you to marry him, you said yes, then he cheated on you before your wedding, which you only confirmed because of a video that your best friend showed you two days before your wedding day.” His eyebrow was quirked again, as if asking her if he got the facts right.

She supposed it was, at its essence, all that. “Correct.”

“Then you sought employment with my father and got on a ship to fly across the galaxy.”

“Well, first, the video got leaked out to TMC. Two weeks after _that_ scandal broke, I got this job.”

He tilted his head to one side and then the other, as if to examine all her angles. “Were you-- _are_ you okay?”

She chuckled. “You mean, did I not have a nervous breakdown?”

He didn’t say anything, which meant he wasn’t amending her question.

“I don’t think I did. I was mad. And I was mortified. But I was of sound mind when I asked your dad for this job. In the two weeks after the scandal, hiding in my apartment, I had a lot of time to think, and I realized that my life was kind of a mess. I needed a clean start and your father came knocking on my mother’s door. Now here I am, and I still think it’s the best decision I’ve ever made.”

He moved closer and she felt elated by the vast improvement in his body language. “And Archie coming here?”

“Shit happens.”

He touched her face, his thumb rubbing the apple of her cheek. “He’s an idiot.”

“The worst.”

“I would never treat you that way.”

Her heart fluttered as she closed the gap between them, slipping her hands beneath his coat and around his waist. “I know.”

“Betts,” he said, staring back at her face with the softest eyes she’d ever seen. “Where are we going with this?”

And there it was. The question they’d been dancing around for weeks.

It didn’t seem to matter so much when it was just them, inhaling each other in the shadows and closing the spaces, whispering in each other’s ears and kissing patches of exposed skin.

But with Archie throwing a wrench in it all by showing up, it was suddenly, starkly, important.

Perhaps Archie wasn’t so useless after all.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, tracing idle circles over the chest of his grey henley sweater. “I love being on this ship. I like being with you. I like talking to you. I feel… safe when I’m with you. I trust you. I respect you. Your opinion of me matters, and these last few days, I’ve been afraid to ask you why you were avoiding me, because what if you tell me we’re done? I’d be--” She stopped, trying to find the words. Devastated? Yes, but she didn’t want to put that on him. Disappointed? Yes, but that seemed so inadequate. “Unmoored.”

“Betts,” he said in a gently chiding tone. “You’d be fine with or without me. You’re so strong and clever. You will never be unmoored. You’re a goddamn rocket scientist.”

She feathered the tips of her fingers along his jaw. She wasn’t alarmed by what he said. They were talking. This was him laying things out on the table. “I need you to understand something, Jug. Engineering and rocket technology is my life. In the last fifteen years, I’ve woken up and looked forward to applying all the equations I’ve thought of overnight--get it down on paper and start making them real. In the few months I’ve been here, I’ve woken up and looked forward to not only _that,_ but also to _talking_ to you--being with you. I don’t know what that means yet, Jug, but I want to keep going in that direction.”

The corner of his lip lifted, his fingers marking a path up her arm to the juncture of her neck and shoulder. “I want that, too. I want us to keep going, but this life I have is it, Betts. I’m always going to be on this ship. I’m always going to be a bounty hunter, or a pilot, or a soldier. It’s what I am.”

“And it’s what you should be, if that’s what you want,” she said, crumpling the front of his shirt in her fist. “It’s what you’re good at. You’re amazing, Jug. You’re incredible. And I don’t ever want you to change. Don’t you dare.”

He kissed her. Finally.

She had missed the touch of his lips. Had missed the way he ran his fingers through her hair and the velvety swipe of his tongue. She missed feeling his warm breath against her face and the pressure of his wandering hands. She missed his warmth--in his bed or hers. It’s only been three days, but it felt like an eternity.

When they parted, they stayed close, foreheads touching, noses rubbing, and as intimate as it was, kissing was all she needed at the moment.

She blinked lazily, closing her eyes as she stole more kisses from his lips. “Is your dad still going to kill you?”  

He breathed. He hadn’t even opened his eyes yet. He hadn’t let her go. “Probably, but I don’t care. I think he knows.”

She laughed, quietly, cupping his face between her hands. “We’ll ease him into the idea. Give him a chance to figure things out.”

The smile that blossomed from Jughead’s lips made her heart gallop wildly in her chest. She was relieved to have him back. Happy that they can navigate this ship together.

If felt a little like they were staring at the same compass and mapping a course that was full of exciting possibilities.  

“Are we good, Cowboy?” she asked, quietly.

He pressed a slow kiss on her lips. “We are. We so are.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is definitely more to come from this universe. Keep your eyes open for Part 3.


End file.
